


Switch

by touchthebuttz



Category: overwatch
Genre: Gore, Graphic descriptions of violence, I swear it'll be light hearted sometimes, M/M, Red String of Fate, Starts as kids btw, Tw for general Dark themes at times, body switch, tw for torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchthebuttz/pseuds/touchthebuttz
Summary: The Red string of fate works in mysterious ways. Often, not in particularly well thought out ways, but nonetheless, it always finds a way to bring two souls together.If only it were that simple.Hanzo Shimada and Jesse McCree live very different lives; one is the son of the head of a clan, the other has been thrown into living the life of an outlaw.One day, something clicks and throws both their lives into disarray as they switch places





	1. Prologue1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest.
> 
> I watched Your Name and loved the concept.  
> Blatant rip off is blatant but meh.
> 
> First chapter is very short because I wrote it during a blackout and was bored. Second will be longer.

**__** **_PROLOGUE PART 1: HANZO_ **

 

When he woke, he knew something was wrong. Firstly, when his hand shot out to touch his wakizashi, his hand touched nothing but cool morning air. Hanzo's eyes opened at that and immediately, he froze. He wasn't in his own room. The air was musty and smelt of old cigars and smoke from newly put out fires.

As he sat up, he became aware of how bulky and odd his body felt. He touched his stomach as he surveyed the room, a little taken aback at the soft swell of his belly. Perhaps he had eaten too much the night before, but then it dawned on him as he looked at his arms- he'd gotten hairy. And he was missing a tattoo.

Perhaps this was just another dream

Nonetheless, Hanzo sprung to his feet- an action with less than graceful results as he tripped over the boxes strewn across the floor, narrowly avoiding smacking his head on the corner of the bedside table. He kicked out at a box, _"Damn it!_ " He shouted, rolling to his feet when he heard the door open. He took a defensive stance; dream or not, he was more than a little freaked out.

"Jesse, I didn't know y'speaked Japanese," a voice drawled from the doorway, "Get your ass up. We've got to get moving. They want you to finish your initiation today."

"My name is not Jesse-- what initiation?" Hanzo began, relaxing only slightly when he noted that the man who was speaking to him, a middle aged man with skin marred with scars and blemishes, posed no threat to him.

"Into Deadlock. What, you changed your mind?" The man laughed, crow's feet wrinkling up, "Get y'self cleaned up. We'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

Before Hanzo could speak again, the man had left. With a grumble of defeat, Hanzo stood up straight and went looking for the bathroom. He found it fairly quickly, but was immediately horrified with what his mind could conjure. It was a very small bathroom, and the mirror was beyond grotty.

He wandered over to the sink to wash his face and paused when he caught a glimpse of himself in the smeared glass. That was not him. The kid that stared back was of a tanned complexion, with big brown eyes and a heavy brow. Chestnut hair, still unkempt from the night, had God knows what matted in it.

He frowned, and the boy in the mirror also frowned. Curiously, he turned the tap on and splashed some water on his face.

Wake up, his mind screamed.

To his horror, the water felt very real. And when he sunk to his knees, so did the pain of him hitting his elbow on the edge of the vanity.


	2. Prologue2

_** PROLOGUE PART 2: JESSE ** _

 

Jesse was young, but he certainly wasn't stupid. Thrown out of home at the age of nine, he'd had to learn to acclimatise quickly. And that meant learning a whole lot of things a nine year old shouldn't have to learn, just to survive.

By ten, he was running with a small band of unlikely misfits, stealing what they could and selling it during the nighttime markets in the poorer section of town. Things went sour when a group of scrappers had come through town, shooting up the markets.

Jesse had his first kill that night.

It had been an accident. He was running, sliding through stalls as a man chased after him. Rounding a corner, he'd pulled the rusty laser pistol he'd stolen for himself a mere four months back, and had pulled the trigger. The image of the man standing stock still for a moment, a gaping hole seared open right through his left eye socket, still haunted Jesse. He doubt it would ever go away.

Shortly after, he'd ditched the pistol and had taken the man's own revolver before he'd run off.

Bennett had been the one to save him. Hungry, cold and sore, not to mention exhausted, barely five hours later, the supposed retired outlaw had taken him under his wing.

That's how it'd been for the past three and a half years.

Jesse had been dreaming about his most recent kills when he felt something touch his foot. He jerked awake, kicking out as his eyes flew open. To his surprise, his foot connected with the shin of a boy who could scarcely be his own age. Younger, Jesse decided. At first, he didn't question the presence of a stranger, sitting up and stretching. Bennett surrounded himself with strange people. Hell, Jesse had woken to worse than a kid poking him.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

The boy, a wispy little kid with an inquisitive look about him snorted, and moved to poke him again. As he poked him, he said something in a language Jesse didn't understand. He himself spoke English and Spanish, and some butchered scraps of French, but not much else. He stared at the kid blankly until he laughed and switched to English.

"Are you trying to play games with me again, Hanzo?"

"Hanzo? M'name ain't Hanzo." Jesse replied, getting awfully confused. Just what was going on here? As the kid imitated his words, it dawned on him that his own voice sounded, well, off.

There was a lilt to his words that hadn't been there before, but he brushed it off. He looked around the room again, starting to panic as he woke up properly. This wasn't the room he'd gone to sleep in.

His induction into Deadlock was in a few hours, or so he thought until he saw the time. Five in the morning. He had time.

"What day is it?" He asked as he got up, "The sixth?"

The boy shook his head as he took a seat by the large window along one wall, "That was yesterday."

Jesse started panicking again.  
"Did I-" he tried again, "Did I pass?"

The boy tilted his head, looking quizzical for a moment before he nodded. "Yes." He replied after second.

He decided then and there that the reason it all felt so off was because this was a dream. Hence why his room was weird, why there was a random kid calling him "Hanzo", and that he apparently got into Deadlock.

That last thing? Would never happen.

"Genji!" A voice called from the hallway, and the boy leapt to his feet. He grinned at Jesse before running off, but paused in the doorway, "Remember, training at seven."

Jesse nodded dumbly, looking down at himself. The silks he wore felt incredibly real. What a strange dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do people think so far? I'd like to see some thoughts!


	3. Prologue part3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final part of the prologue

_**Prologue Part 3: Hanzo** _

Hanzo showered quickly, not bothering to waste time staring at the strange body he seemed to now inhabit. This was so very, very odd. After hunting around the strange room for clothes, he settled on just dressing in the clothes he found thrown over the back of a chair.  
He hazarded a sniff and was surprised that it didn't smell too awful. This boy seemed to not really care about his hygiene- or, didn't have the time to care about it. Either way, Hanzo pitied him.

Once he clambered downstairs, still not used to how bulky this boy was, long legs easily finding each step as he stomped down to the kitchen in search of the man from before.

The man in question looked up from the holographic newspaper he was reading, pointing to the seat opposite him. "Jesse, sit and eat. D'you want coffee?"  
Hanzo shook his head as he sat down, suspiciously eyeing off the food in front of him before he dug in.

"Bennett! They're here. Should I go talk to them?" A young lady, a brunette who was maybe twenty years old but made of tough stuff, asked from outside.

The man, whom Hanzo now identified as Bennett, sighed and got up. "Yeah. We'll be out in a moment, help them set up." He then turned to Hanzo, gesturing with the newspaper, "Hurry up. I'll get your gun."

And then, all of a sudden, Hanzo was alone. But the urgency of the situation kicked in, and despite the fact he had no idea what was going on, he hurriedly ate the food. By the time Bennett returned, he was standing up and stretching. He handed him a revolver and patted him on the shoulder, a look of pride in his eye.

"You'll do great, kid. Just shoot like I taught you, and they'll accept you."

He held the gun with a firm grip, all too happy to follow the other outside. They crossed the yard to a large barn with its doors propped open. Several motorbikes were parked outside and a gang member loitererd outside, sneering at them as they passed, and spat.

Hanzo blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the barn as he looked around. It had been cleared out long ago, yet it still smelt of animals and fertiliser. Hay clung to his boots as he stepped before a man clad in leather. His comb over barely hid the nasty scar he had that marred his right eye and nose, still clearly healing. Two people behind him shifted their weight when they noticed their guests, adjusting their shotguns pointedly.

"Fresh meat. Ain't that nice of you, Ben. So, can this one shoot or are ya giving us free bait again?" The leader slurred, pointing at Hanzo, who glared at him unapologetically.

Bennett gave him a reproachful glance and shook his head. "Jesse's got a good head on his shoulders an' he's a great shot. Taught him m'self."

The leader scrutinised him for a moment before he bared his teeth in a wicked grin, nodding as he backed off. "Well, alright. But we've gotta break a good kid to get anywhere. So, kid, pick your target."

The man's henchmen brought three blindfolded people forward and forced them onto their knees. At a glance, they were indiscernible. There wasn't anything important about them. They were people.

At fourteen, Hanzo had already had to kill people. Not many, but still. It was all a part of being in the Clan, and if he was to be the leader someday, he had to desensitise quickly. The only problem with his current situation was that he hadn't fired a revolver before. Guns in general? Yes, but nothing like the weapon he currently held.

But surely there wasn't too large of a learning curve. He figured out how to cock it very quickly, and frowned taking aim at the second person they'd brought in. "Them." He said quietly.

The men took the other people to the side, and returned to remove the blindfold of the person he had chosen. The wide eyed, frightened stare of the woman caught him off guard, for barely a moment, but a moment was enough. He hesitated. The leader noticed this and sneered.

"Too much for you? I thought it wouldn't be much of a challenge for you, kid."

The words sunk in, and Hanzo gritted his teeth, aiming at the woman's head again. She struggled, clearly wanting to cry out or run, probably both. He pulled the trigger, and the bullet exited the back of her skull, brain matter and clumps of hair splattering the wall behind her now slumped body.

Unfazed, Hanzo lowered the revolver and looked to the leader. "You were saying?"

The man stared at him for a moment before spitting on his hand and holding it out to him. "Welcome to the Deadlock Rebels. I'm sure you'll be an asset to us."

_________________________________________________

_**Prologue Part 3: Jesse** _

It took him ten minutes to realise that the clothing he found, a robe and some loose pants, weren't for sleeping in. Though he was tempted to put the pants on and wander out to find breakfast, it was a little chilly. He pulled the robe on, right over left, and tied it.

Breakfast, when he found the dining room, was it's own ordeal.

Firstly, he had to kneel. Secondly, the food choices were odd, to say the least. Rice with a raw egg cracked over it- which, in all honesty, didn't taste too bad, was what he went with for safety's sake.

Then Genji, who'd apparently eaten, came in and tugged him to his feet. "Come on, you're almost late for our sparring session." He whined as Jesse hauled his ass up and stretched.

"So?"

"Father is going to be watching," Genji paused when he glanced at him, hesitating mid-stride. He doubled over laughing, "Are you possessed? This is very unlike you, Hanzo. You woke up looking very confused and now you dress yourself like the dead." He shook his head as he straightened, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I'm so damn confused..." Jesse frowned, letting Genji lead the way. This was feeling less and less like a dream, and that horrified him.

Genji stopped, the kid turning to look at him.  
"... You're not _anija_." He sighed, expression sobering for a moment.

Jesse wasn't sure what the word meant but he shook his head. "I'm not 'Hanzo', or whatever his name is, nah."

The boy frowned then grabbed his hand. "Very well. Come, and follow my lead."

Jesse was led through a sliding door into a well lit room, the soft smell of vanilla and something else hitting his nose as they walked out onto the mats. What he wasn't expecting was Genji to straight away sweep his legs out from underneath him. He grunted as he fell on his ass.

Genji grinned down at him and held out a hand. "Sorry. I've just always wanted to do that," he said sheepishly. Jesse waved it off and grinned back.

"Your brother an ass, huh?" He asked, as the younger paced a little.

"Understatement." Genji's gaze went past him, grin disappearing. Jesse glanced behind him to see a man watching them. He swallowed and looked back to Genji, raising a brow in question. He got a nod in return. That was their father. He was a man with a huge presence about him, one that had Jesse almost pissing himself. But there wasn't anything outwardly threatening about him. From his salt-and-peppered black hair and immaculately trimmed beard, to those calm eyes, he was not a threatening presence.

Genji lowered his voice, "Copy my stance," Jesse obliged then waited, "Okay, good. Raise your hands, get ready to block my hits then I want you to flip me."

Jesse hesitated then indicated he understood. Genji let fly with his fists, one smashing right into Jesse's- or rather, Hanzo's- nose, but the other hits missed or were deflected. Jesse grimaced as blood trickled down his lips, instinct from years living on the streets kicking in as he raised his knee, and kneed Genji right between his legs. The boy dropped like a fly, and groaned, looking up at him.

Worried, Jesse went to crouch, but stopped when Genji grinned breathlessly up at him, giving him a shaky thumbs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your patience.  
> This was harder than I expected to write, but it's done. Thank god. Review, gimme a holler over at my Tumblr if you want etc etc.  
> Thecowboyandthedragon.tumblr.com
> 
> Until next chapter.


End file.
